


The Guardian's Love Story

by Yahqauup



Series: This is a crazy family but it's our famiglia [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Parody, Post-Canon, Tsuna is both dying inside and the most chill boss ever, Unhealthy Relationships, in a way of speaking, no beta'd we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22272514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahqauup/pseuds/Yahqauup
Summary: Four times Gokudera and Yamamoto were interrupted by Mukuro and one time they were interrupted by Mukuro and Hibari.
Relationships: Gokudera Hayato/Yamamoto Takeshi
Series: This is a crazy family but it's our famiglia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603213
Kudos: 12





	1. Lambo's quest

The narrator feels compelled to argue that it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. It’s like that story of the dog, the one that begins with Lambo adopting a cat, naming it Deatheater, because ‘’it sounds fucking cool, doesn’t it Stupidera?’’, ‘‘Watch your fucking mouth, you shitty kid!’’, ‘’Tsuna, look what he said to me’’ ‘’Shut the fuck up, Stupid Cow’’, losing said cat in a fight against Reborn ‘’Leon is much cooler than that stupid cat and he has an undoubtedly cooler name, don’t you agree, No-good-student?’’, ‘’Please, stop trying to get me into the fight’’, and, ultimately, discovering that Reborn has read Harry Potter.

And well, it’s not exactly like the story of the dog because it is the story about the dog.

The cat was a little orange thing that slept the first three nights at the feet of Lambo's (big, comfortable, silky sheets and hand-woven blankets) bed and the fourth night in an unknown location. The origins where unknown (somebody had tried to have Lambo tell how the ''fatidic, destined encounter'' (Bovino, Lambo: XXXX) happened, but only three things were sure: (A) Nobody could understand Lambo reports if he didn't want anybody to understand them; (B) Reborn patience could be ended with a minimum of one and a half words if those words (1) came from Lambo and if (2) one of them was _I;_ and (C) it was not a cat) and by the fourth night of the new tenant, the whereabouts were also unknown. Altogether, it was a mystery.

It feels unnecessary to add that, in the face of a mystery to resolve, one Lambo Bovino felt in his veins that it was in his obligation, as the only person in the entire mansion who, by means of being the youngest (and spoiled) and refusing to do them, had no chores or missions*, to initiate a quest in the search of said animal (Deatheater, the cat).

The quest started in the kitchen because that’s where you go when you’re hungry and, although the first room explored had no clues about the (unknown) location of Deatheater, Lambo was able to win a new companion for the search party.

''You are tall.'' Lambo tried to say, with a glass of milk in his hands and three cookies in his mouth

''Am I?'' Said the tall man. He took a glass for himself from the higher cupboard and added ''Yes, yes. I am.'' And laughed with a string of _fu fu fu_ s that Lambo didn't find weird at all.

''Who are you?'' Tried to say Lambo with one less cookie in his mouth.

''Flavio, I think.'' The man made a pensive face. ''Marco? No, no. That's not it... Francesco, yeah.'' He laughed his _fu_ s again. ''But my friends call me Fran. Frank? Or Franz, whichever seems more plausible.''

''Sure,'' said Lambo. ''Have you seen Deatheater?''

''I have not.'' The man thought the name over. ''But I sure would like to.''

After more cookies and another glass of milk (with sugar) for Franz (Fran?) were acquired, the quest continued to the next room.

* * *

''Laboratory 5 should be clean within a week.'' Gokudera pushed his glasses on his nose, refusing to pinch his nose and accept that he was nursing a headache this early in the day. Takeshi was wrong, he did not lead a stressful life, he was the paragon of a healthy life, both mental and physical, and if Takeshi wanted to put that fact in question one more time, someone was going to sleep in the nursery that night.

''I am sure they will be finished by then.'' Takeshi. _No, you know what, first name basis is revoked_ , Gokudera thought. Yamamoto said.

''What.'' He spat. ''Are they finishing? Exactly?''

Yamamoto smiled. Gokudera lit a cigarette.

''I think they already started cleaning things up yesterday.''

He breathed the smoke in.

''What.'' Maybe coffee would do good for his day, he should not be worried about things going smoothly around the mansion. It was to be expected, everyone (well, almost everyone, he corrected himself mentally) was a professional and they were capable of running* things, both correctly and in time. There was absolutely no reason for the pressure that was building on the back of his head.

Yamamoto smiled. Hayato thought it was a shame that Takeshi always left his sword in the room when he was staying in the mansion because he felt he wanted a fight and beating the ever-smiling baseball bastard was always worth it.

''I don't even play baseball anymore, Hayato.'' Said Bastard told him, with an unguarded sad expression that made Hayato want to put that face in a table. Violently.

He inhaled more smoke, realizing that he had let himself say aloud his thoughts.

''The Decimo has been very clear in his instructions on how the procedure should go.'' Hayato ignored whatever Yamamoto's face was doing. ''Not even you can fuck it up.''

''It'll be easy.'' Said the bastard. ''Don't worry too much.''

Hayato felt himself worrying.

''You only have to fucking get the boxes with the poison and put them on the van. That's simple.'' Yamamoto knew that he was repeating it for his own sake and, more than smiling again, it was that he had not stopped smiling at all. ''You have to help move the Death Heather to a storehouse. There is no way this can go wrong.''

* * *

The idea of asking Tsuna had its merit, he might have volunteered himself to help and been an interesting addition to their two members party, but Lambo thought that there was a possibility that Tsuna would not allow cookies as the Official Quest Food. Also, he had a habit of acting all weird and panicking where France (it sounded better than Franz, he decided) was involved. Lambo made the maths, it wasn't worth it.

The third floor proved itself useless in their quest. The only thing Lambo discovered was that France had an interesting and revolting usage of sugar in his milk, in which he put more sugar than milk to the point that Lambo himself, who until ten minutes ago had always prided himself on liking sweets, found the idea of drinking it revolting. He could taste the sweet vomit that it would provoke should he indulge in similar drinks. He preferred his cookies and his caramels and focused on not drinking his own glass of milk, which had been provided to him by a nice woman who had first smiled sweetly at him and then looked angrily at him. The glass was half empty, but Lambo wanted to be able to give it to the cat when he found it.

''Should we go to the second floor?'' Asked France, sinking a cookie with chocolate chips in his milk. ''Who knows, maybe it fell from the stairs and is dead under them.''

The man was smiling and Lambo thought about the possibility of crying, more out of irritating the man than out of true sadness, but the sound of his crying had been defined as ''scaringly loud and horribly raucous'' (Gokudera, Hayato, XXXX) and Lambo didn't want to risk scaring the cat away from wherever it could be. Instead, he screamed a ''Yes! Let's go!'' that bounced on the wall. However, France only smiled, completely unperturbed, and ate his wet cookie. In retaliation, Lambo ate another one.

* * *

Hayato didn't have a real reason to be in the basement, he was completely and perfectly aware of that. He could be on the second floor, next to the Decimo, discussing political alliances and hostility (it was not gossiping no matter the tea and the tea cookies, there were dossiers and reports and it was all very professional). He could be preparing the next mission for the Cloud Guardian, to reduce the time he had to spend in the mansion (and therefore reducing the costs of repairing the mansion). He could even be on his bed, taking a day off because he was a hard-working man and he deserved to rest sometime (he wouldn't do that, not out of his own accord and not even if someone tried to force it upon him).

Laboratory 5 had its doors open at the end of the corridor. He could go closer to it than he was, but he refused. Tsuna was already worried about a hypothetical heart-attack induced by hypothetical overextension. Nothing that could be taken out of the world of hypothesis, really, but Hayato would not be added to the (long, hand-written by himself) list of things the Decimo had to worry about.

He still had half of his last pack of cigarettes. See? He thought. Half full, not half empty. I am not pessimistic, no matter what that Yamamoto says, he thought with vengeful satisfaction.

The bastard was talking with one of the scientists, a young woman, slim and red-headed, who wore glasses that were bigger than her nose. Lamely, he thought that he looked better with his glasses on him than her.

Not quite angry (it was not angriness whatever was taking home in the pits of his stomach), he heard Yamamoto laugh with her. She had a loud laugh that rivalized with Yamamoto's. Well, not Yamamoto. He meant that bastard who didn't deserve surnames privileges.

He lit a cigarette. He knew that he would not finish the pack up by lunch and he smiled to himself. He was not going to quit, only lame people with addictions would quit, and he was not lame and he did not have an addiction. He looked at the white smoke going out of his mouth and decided that he should start preparing that crazy cloud guardian next mission before it was too late.

So caught up was he in his smoke, that he imagined a sound, a low sound that sounded like a kid crying. He considered the idea of the sound being real for a moment, but the only kid in the mansion was Lambo and if that damn cow was crying, there was no way that Hayato could think he was imagining it. 

* * *

The second floor resulted in new information. A kind man, a little on the short side with so many freckles on his face that they made a shadow under one of his eyes in the shape of a funny looking boot and a stutter on his voice when he talked, told them that they had been hearing weird noises all night in the basement.

Lambo had questions. Who were they? Why were they in the basement? What could they be possibly doing in the basement at night when it was so dark and humid and scary? People were stupid, in his opinion.

The man had kept looking at Francis (it sounded nicer that France, less nationalist) and Francis' red eye had been shining while he smiled and _fufu_ ed his way to make the man confess everything he knew.

Lambo took a drink of his (Deatheater's) glass of milk and decided to approach the basement while Francis finished up breaking the man. It was a shame, he quite liked the funny looking boot on his face. He considered crying, again, but decided against it. He opened the door to the basement, took the first step to the stairs and began to fall in what seemed like a never-ending slide. It had spikes he had to dodge and there was even a dragon at the end of it.

He was sad when it ended, but Francis was laughing his particular monosyllable at the top of the stairs and he started planning how to convince him (trick him?) to make another slide.

''That was really funny! Can we do it again?''

The man laughed again, which Lambo choose to understand as a yes, and then he heard, finally, the sound of his cat meowing from a nearby room.

Francis was next to him in a moment. Lambo would have wondered about it, but he was too preoccupied with finally founding his cat.

It was a very stupid cat, Lambo admitted in front of the evidence. However, Francis remark on the matter felt unnecessary. He could see with his own (young and beautiful, may he add) eyes that the cat had somehow got stuck in a pipeline that protruded from a wall. 

''A sad state of events,'' Francis proclaimed, ''the cat needs to be euthanized.'' Lambo would have been more worried about the man's words if he didn't know for sure that he was incapable of hurting an animal. A man? Sure. But not a cat with big shiny eyes that meowed like that. 

* * *

Gokudera trailed behind the bastard. 

"Hayato, I was born from a marriage. My dad will tell you himself if you ask him."

He could have taken a box too, but Hayato felt a little vindicated in watching Yamamoto break a sweat. He felt a lot of other things, but vindication was one of his favourite ones. It was like putting the exact grams of sugar in his morning coffee. Irreplaceable and worth the (no) effort.

He was on his phone at the moment, Yamamoto three steps behind him walking in that lazy way of his that so resembled Reborn's and that was one of the ways in which Yamamoto was good at was he did, as much as he loathed to admit it. On the phone, Squalo was informing him of a suspicious activity that the varia had encountered in his last holidays at the North American border.

''Is that Squalo? Tell him I say hello!''

Hayato did not tell Squalo anything, only thank you for the information (he did not say thank you) and promised to write a new budget for the maintenance of the Varia mansion (he did not promise anything). They said goodbye (they didn't) and Hayato started calling another person the moment he heard the first peep.

He was going to open the door to the basement, but he heard a noise that he recognized and he decided he did not want to deal with whatever was making Lambo laugh at the moment. The day was actually going pretty well, despite the bad omens he had told himself he was seeing since he had woken up, and he was not going where he knew for sure it would turn into a fucked up day. There was only one box of poison left and it was already next to him, and it would be transported to the van, even if Yamamoto wasn’t on it right now. It was just a matter of time.

Hayato did not remember being like _that_ when he was that young.

''We're still young.''

'' _You_ are young.'' Spitted Hayato.

''We've the same age.'' Yamamoto smiled, closer to his face that Hayato expected. ''We're on our twenties, we're young. Our entire lives in front of us.''

Weirdly optimistic for someone like Yamamoto, who had an unexpected grey look on life, but Hayato didn't feel like debating that point at the moment. On his phone a woman's voice was trying to tell him about the new CEDEF's plan of recruitment. He already knew about it, he had participated in the outline. He agreed half-heartedly with the new exam she was proposing and added a point in his Decimo's schedule to look into it before the week ended. Tsuna was not going to be happy about it.

Yamamoto continued smiling, which was both to be expected and a little maddening. Hayato put off the cigarette he was smoking on the wall he was leaning on and, for the second time in that day, mourned that Yamamoto didn't have his sword with him. It would be fun to practise, but he guessed that there were other things to do meanwhile that didn't include going back to the basement where that stupid-cow was doing who knew what (and he really really did _not_ want to know).

* * *

He used the saw to save the cat (which he would deny to the last of his days) and Lambo was armed with an iron hammer (that he didn't use at all).

''You know that it's a dog, don't you?''

''Yeah,'' said Lambo with a hand hidden in his hair. 'Yeah, Franzino, I know, but don't tell Tsuna and the others, they wouldn't let me have a dog.''

''Ok.'' Answered the tall man, who liked knowing that the Vongola were being deceived by one in its ranks.

''Anyways, a dog would be too much work.'' Lambo took the cat in his arms and the tall man immediately took the iron hammer from his hands. He didn't trust the kid to not cause some damage with it. If he trusted something about the boy, was his capacity to cause damage, which he greatly admired and wanted to see flourish. He wanted to say that saying that the animal was a cat did not imply that he wouldn't have to do the work he had to do, but was under the impression that something as pedestrian as logic escaped from Lambo's mind (and he was right).

He regretted his action immediately. He should have had to make the kid keep the hammer, and maybe even give him the saw. He was sure that Lambo could cause even more damage and more chaotic than himself. And, more important, he could have had taken the cat for himself. He didn't plan to cause (too much) damage. He was more of an agent of chaos, and he prided on it, and this was more of an infiltration mission than one of destruction. The destruction would come later.

''Do you hear that noise?''

''No.''

Lambo made an ugly face, his nose trembled and then it was an inhuman noise that entered the ears of the poor's lad whose body he had taken like a bullet enters a stomach, painfully. He was surprised, which he couldn't decide if he liked or not, but he also couldn't decide if he should or shouldn't do something about it, because he would like his infiltration in the mansion to remain secret.

''Okay, I heard the noise'', he said, even though he hadn't. ''Go out to play with the cat and I'll look what the noise was.'' He really wasn't going to do that.

Lambo squeezed his eyes. He really looked ugly when he cried. ''No, you won't, Franzino.'' And then started crying again. Then, he heard the noise, it resembled what he thought would happen if he let the hammer fall from his hand, which he didn't, even though the crying made him throw the hammer, unintentionally, perpendicularly into Lambo's feet, who made a loud shriek and then, there was silence, and he smiled at him, said ''Yes, you will, Franciscino.'', squeezed his nose and started to cry again.

He did.

* * *

Hayato had opinions on everything. It was one of his redeeming qualities (in his opinion). Moreover, he liked to share his opinions, to whoever would listen and to whoever was fortunate enough to be there when he felt the need to make his opinions known:

‘’Something is going to go wrong.’’

Yamamoto simply murmured something against his neck, which was fine with Hayato, he hadn’t actually expected him to answer. He heard Lambo’s cries again.

‘’Actually, I think we should go and see what is the problem.’’

Yamamoto nodded and Hayato kind of regretted saying it when he stopped feeling Yamamoto’s hand in his arm. Then, the crying stopped, which, in his experience, was even worse than the crying.

Yamamoto looked at him, he looked at Yamamoto (he felt he should go back to first names, given the circumstances) and just glared when the door opened. A man stood in the doorway. He was tall and lanky and Hayato was sure he was called Carlos. Hayato also was sure that if it was any other day and he hadn’t had Yamamoto hand under his shirt, he would have seen Carlos red eye that meant that his body had been hijacked by one particular mist guardian he preferred not to think about.

‘’You should go out and close the door, Carlos.’’

‘’My name is Franciscino.’’

‘’No, it is not.’’ Hayato heard Yamamoto intervene. He also felt Yamamoto’s hand tense under his shirt and he couldn’t decide if that was good or not, given that the previous given circumstances had changed. ‘’I did not know that you were supposed to be here?’’

Yamamoto was smiling, which was not weird or unusual _at all_ and Hayato both loved and hated how many things he could fault on that.

‘’Which means that you should go.’’ He didn’t scream it, in spite of having pretty good reasons to and despite what other sources may declare. He announced his opinion calmly, because, as he may assure you, he is _not_ stressed.

Then, Hayato saw what the man was holding and had the bright idea to question it:

‘’Why are you holding a saw?’’

‘’To throw it.’’ Answered the man. And then, he threw it.

Yamamoto caught it in the air. Hayato noted that he used the hand that had been previously situated on his arm. The other one, warm and big and sturdy, was still in his righteous place under his shirt.

‘’Oh.’’ He said, intelligently. He raised a brow, because that’s what stupid people like Carlos (or Franciscino, apparently) deserved. ‘’And the hammer?’’

The tall man made a thinking sound. It sounded mocking, which made no sense whatsoever and then it made all the sense in the world when he said ‘’To break the saw’’ and jumped on Yamamoto, who had to separate his hand from Hayato’s skin, and Hayato saw his eye shining with a number.

That was bad, in every meaning of the word that Hayato knew. And then it was worse when Yamamoto, who was laughing with that fucking crazy man, because he was clearly crazy too, stepped a little too much to the right and, no, that was not how the box was broken. What happened, in slow-motion actions that Hayato could remember thanks to his great memory and the adrenaline that had spiked through his body that moment, was that, first, Yamamoto stepped too much to the right and kicked the box. He side-stepped it and cut the hammer in half. That damn man tried to (jokingly) stab Yamamoto with the part that was still in his hand and Hayato tried to (not so jokingly) stop him. The box was kicked again. And the part of the hammer that was falling, well, it fell where nobody wanted it to fell.

The Death Heather, who nobody wanted out of its bottles, was, in fact, out of the bottles.

* * *

''Oh, you've seen Mukuro?'' Said his Decimo calmly, even though Gokudera himself felt anything but.

Next to Tsuna, Lambo and his cat (it was a dog, it was so clearly a dog that Hayato was going to have a _talk_ with the kid’s professors) were drinking a glass of milk. Actually, it seemed like Tsuna was also drinking a glass of milk too.

Gokudera answered the question steadfastly. It may have sounded like an inconsequential scream, but it wasn’t.

‘’We had a snack together, too.’’ Said Lambo.

‘’Did you?’’ Asked Tsuna, still calm.

‘’You did what?’’ Admittedly, Gokudera screamed. ‘’He caused a Death Heather escape.’’

‘’No. Actually,’’ Lambo corrected. ‘’He found the escaped Deatheater.’’

From somewhere else in the Vongola mansion, a scream was heard. But screams were usual in that place and so, nobody paid it any attention:

‘’My name is _Cesco!_ ''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *It has been argued that what constitutes a chore and what constitutes a mission is the same, really, the difference found in the location, not the content.  
> *For some reason, his thoughts had strayed into the word ruining where running should have been, but Hayato had realized with surprisingly quick reflexes and corrected himself faster enough that he needn't admit to the slip.


	2. The honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, it's not their honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up cars for this. I don't think it was worth it.

‘’Why do you think they're called honeymoons? There are no honey or moons involved in the making or procedures of them. Maybe for the expected sweetness? The metaphorical romanticism attributed to the moon?’’ 

Mukuro mused these things aloud as Gokudera’s lip twitch increased, either uncaring of it or because of it.

‘’Because affection wanes,’’ he finally said. ‘’Like my sanity when you’re close.’’

‘’That’s rather depressing. Doesn’t the moon also wax?’

‘’No. The moon doesn’t grow or shrink.’’

Gokudera didn’t want to discuss the workings of love and affection with Mukuro, he could think of more enjoyable things to do, like gouging his eyes out, or planning an infiltration to the Vindice Prison with Hibari, Ryohei and his sister of all people (bad example, bad example, what if that fucker can read minds?) or babysitting Haru’s baby (the child had started teething and it was _bad,_ not that you could tell by Haru’s calmness or the Neo Vongola’s excitement towards the problem, —because _yes_ , it was a problem).

Gokudera stomped on the butt of his cigarette and opened his cigar box to rediscover it was empty. ‘’Fuck!’’

Mukuro right eye was shining red. Gokudera was against looking into the general direction of the Mist Guardian face, but it was required if you wanted to know if he was using illusions or not. It was rather useless now, because he knew that Mukuro was indeed using illusions (his body was not here, his brain repeatedly told itself, against all empirical evidence) and worse, Mukuro probably knew of his own tell, which meant that he must make his eye shine or blue to confuse his enemy. Or to fuck with people. And God, did Gokudera know how much Mukuro loved to fuck with people.

Gokudera took out a second cigar box and lightened another cigarette. He inhaled deeply. He could either ask Mukuro what he was planning, knowing full well that there was little possibility of the guy answering truthfully or he could let his nerves built up until something happened and a creepy laugh let him know who the perpetrator of the something was. There was no winning with Mukuro. There was winning him in a fight, for sure. But it was not worth it. It was so much _not_ worth it.

He didn’t open his mouth. This quickly proved to be a mistake when it was Mukuro who talked instead. He listened, against his common sense, for five minutes, in increasing disbelief and horror.

‘’No. Shut up. Just. Shut up.’’

Mukuro raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth, again.

‘’Please.’’ Gokudera bargained.

From the end of the corridor, the Neo Vongola Primo appeared and Gokudera could have fallen in love if he didn’t already love his boss so much. Next to him, the bride-to-be dragged an enormous suitcase with a glee that was clashing aesthetically with whatever was that Gokudera was feeling.

She parked the suitcase in front of him, and he did his best to not stare. His sister had taught him better than that. Shamal had taught him better than that. Reborn had taught him better than that. The Neo Vongola Primo _deserved_ better than that.

He focused on the girl, trying to ignore the suitcase and everything it meant. She was short, Lambo was taller than her, which he knew because he always laughed at the fact (and now, fifteen years old, Lambo’s laugh was as intolerable as ever). Black hair, brown eyes, dark skin, nearing her thirties and eyebags that mismatched her smile.

‘’I’ve heard that you two have been on charge of making my honeymoon safe. I wanted to thank you both.’’

Gokudera risked a glance at the suitcase. It didn’t look like a thank you.

‘’Of course! Don’t worry! I’ve made sure you will have fun.’’

Mukuro _laughed_.

Gokudera forcefully gulped.

‘’Thank you very much, Mukuro.’’

She didn’t ask what those plans were. They didn’t tell her. It could be a nice surprise, depending on how you thought about it. It was a security matter because her work, with her life (and his husband’s, but that mattered less) and, more importantly, information about the Neo Vongola, in the line.

Under his jacket, Gokudera was hiding an envelope. Inside, a letter in a code that only him, her and three people more could understand, informed her of things about her own honeymoon that she was only allowed to know after her wedding and after-party were done, when he left her and her husband in their ‘’Just Got Married’’ car. He wouldn’t even tell her the brand and colour of the car.

They exchanged niceties. Sara Rici left to prepare for her wedding the next day, the Neo Vongola Primo stayed to talk to his guardians, Gokudera heard Mukuro start a sentence begin with ‘’So, Tsunayoshi Sawada, I’ve heard that…’’ and stopped paying attention. His eye was still shining blood red when he laughed _again_.

Finally, Gokudera looked at the suitcase and recognized it for what it was: work.

* * *

Sara Rici’s wedding was nice. Ryohei was excitedly weeping and, next to him, Hana stood looking unmoved by everything and everybody. Haru was near the church’s exit, silently rocking her baby. Behind her, Sandro was both protecting her and making sure nobody suspicious entered the church. Hibari was somewhere above everybody, making Gokudera feel safer and more scared at the same time. The boss was in a row near the altar, as his status merited, and Gokudera was next to him, protecting him.

Chrome and Mukuro were outside the church and, thankfully, neither Yamamoto nor Lambo were nowhere near the church. Lambo was in China, as he had been every July the last five years and Yamamoto was told that, maybe, his presence would be weird since, he had ‘’you know. Um. _That_. I mean. We believe you capable to tell the groom that you are Sara’s friend because you’ve had sex with her. In their wedding day.’’ Which, yeah, Gokudera could see that.

So, Sara Rici’s wedding had been nice. Not that Gokudera had paid any attention to the ceremony. Or to the party afterwards. But nobody had died and nearly nobody had been hurt, but a drunken uncle of the bride had suffered a great injury to his pride when a cousin of the groom had told him off of his ridiculous flirting attempts. Gokudera thought that the worse part was how she called them attempts, not the ridiculous part. His boss, in their afternoon tea meeting, agreed.

‘’Hayato Gokudera,’’ greeted one of his nightmares. ‘’You seem a little on edge.’’

Gokudera was.

He quietly approached the newlywed pair and led them to the dark green Audi 100 coupé S that Ryohei was driving. The envelope he had hidden under his clothes was discreetly delivered and the couple entered the car and were driven off.

Gokudera finally could breathe. His boss was already on route to their mansion. Chrome and Mukuro would follow the car to the airport and he was free of anything to do with Sara Rici’s wedding.

‘’I still think you look tense, Hayato Gokudera, you should ask Takeshi Yamamoto to help you relieve some stress.’’

Gokudera didn’t scream at him. But it was a near thing.

* * *

He was _not_ doing what Mukuro had told him. He was simply not. It was a coincidence.

Takeshi’s flat was modernish, with clean and big superficies from where it was very easy to clean off blood. Gokudera knew Takeshi, sadly enough, so he knew that it was one of the main reasons he had chosen the flat.

‘’You look tense, Hayato.’’

‘’Do not say the same things that crazy owl says,’’ he almost screamed against Takeshi’s mouth.

‘’How was the wedding?’’

''It was nice,'' he answered, taking his jacket off. ''You could have been there if you hadn't fucked the bride.''

Takeshi laughed in a kiss and Hayato regretted his words immediately. They almost recked of jealously when they had been meant to state the truth. Luckily, Takeshi didn't comment on it. He put his fingers on Hayato's neck and scratched there with his well-maintained nails.

Hands were important for batting and swords, so Takeshi had always taken great care of them. He did the same with the rest of his body when he wasn't crashing into walls or receiving nearly-mortal wounds. Takeshi was contradictory like that.

Hayato bit his neck in retaliation, ''Why are you so stupid?'', and kneeled with clear intentions.

He already had his hand inside Takeshi's trousers when, because the world hated him, his phone began to ring. He looked at Takeshi, daring him to say something about not answering it, but Takeshi knew him too well, so he didn't and Hayato lost his opportunity to, at least, scream a little.

''What?'' he answered it.

''Rici and her kept husband are safe and sound in the airport,'' announced Mukuro, almost singing it.

''Isn't her husband a lawyer?'' Why Yamamoto felt the need to ask, Hayato didn't know.

'' _Oh,_ he is _rich_?''

Mukuro said the word _rich_ like an insult. He had opinions on it, probably, because Mukuro had opinions on almost everything and they rarely were positive (he liked long boots and pointy things, which was very obvious). Hayato didn't care about Mukuro's opinions, but Takeshi probably felt differently, because he remarked:

''He is middle class at best.''

Hayato, who hated stupid conversations and people talking about things they didn't know, added:

''He is very upper-middle class. His parents' inheritance, when it comes, that is going to make him rich.''

Takeshi made an interested noise.

''Good, our Sara Rici deserves it.'' Said Mukuro from the telephone.

''It's her husband inheritance, not hers.'' Hayato corrected.

''Depends on how much he lives after his parents die...''

''Mukuro, no.''

''We'll see what Tsunayoshi has to say about this...''

''He's going to say _no_.''

Mukuro made a derisisve noise:

''Whatever. The married couple is waiting for a plane and Chrome and I are done. They can have their affections wax with honey and only them and possibly Ryohei will know.''

Hayato breathed. It was not worth it, he told himself. It was not worth it, he repeated to himself. But.

He showed his palm to Takeshi, telling him to wait.

He _had_ to.

''Actually,'' he began. ''The moon's size never changes. It's a visual effect caused by its position and the light from the sun...''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this: how do I mark people addressing each other when it’s based on a Japanese manga but they’re on Italy talking Italian and I am writing in English????? And I'm not English??? Do you ever have an identity crisis? Because I had one.


End file.
